


Animal Attraction

by disastergirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: CS AU, Dogs, F/M, Neighbors AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disastergirl/pseuds/disastergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan and Killian Jones are neighbors whose dogs have fallen in love from afar. What happens when canine attraction leads to human interaction? Will Emma and Killian fall for each other, or is it just a case of puppy love? A neighbors au written for CS AU Week 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was during the second week in the new house that Killian Jones noticed it. His dog, Mr. Smee, a dark brown lab, was spending an inordinately long time perched on the TV room’s most comfortable armchair, staring out the side window.

“What is so bloody interesting out there, Mr. Smee?” Killian asked curiously, as he walked over to the dark green chair (Mr. Smee and light furniture did not get along) where his dog sat, chin resting on the arm. Killian looked out the side window-- everything seemed tranquil and quiet save the tweeting of the birds.

Mr. Smee sighed and whined in a way that could only be described as yearning. Wagging his tail, he stretched forward toward the house next door. Killian looked across the side yard at the neighboring home. Perched in the window was a redheaded miniature poodle, watching their window. Killian’s home didn’t have a bay window, but the windows were large enough to give Mr. Smee a good view.

“That is one fancy dog, Mr. Smee,” he said.

Mr. Smee gave him the stink eye.

“Whoa--no judgements, lad. No judgements.” said Killian.

Well this was an interesting development, though Killian, wondering what the little dog’s name was and if it played well with others or had that Napoleon complex that some small dogs seemed to have.

“Maybe we'll see this neighbor dog on one of our walks,” he said to Mr. Smee

Killia left the dog at the window to carry on his cross-yard affaire de coeur, while he returned to his unpacking. The upcoming week would be busy, but he also wanted to be done with moving in.

Killian spent any free time the rest of that week getting settled and finishing unpacking, putting books on shelves, hanging a few pictures and setting up his home office. Most mornings and evenings he and Mr. Smee went on a walk, but there was no sign of the little red-headed neighbor dog who perched so happily in that bay window--or the neighbor. All he knew was that he or she drove a bright yellow bug, was away from home a lot and had some serious blackout curtains in the upper front windows. Killian guessed he shouldn't be surprised that the neighbor’s schedule and his didn't sync up--between his freelance writing and giving sailing tours and lessons for the company he and his brother, Liam, owned it was pretty erratic.

“Never fear Mr. Smee. I'm sure we’ll meet your little friend soon,” Killian said, as they passed the neighbors’ house on one of their walks. "The course of true love never did run smooth and all that….”

Mr. Smee gave him a skeptical look as they turned toward the house.

*******************************************************************

Emma Swan had been trying for the past two weeks to spot the new neighbor.

Not that she wanted to befriend him or her--she wasn’t a hostile person, but she had never been what anyone would call outgoing--but because she liked to know what kind of people lived in her neighborhood and what exactly they were up to. As a bail bondsperson, she had learned to be aware of her environment. And run a “light” background check on her neighbors--for which she required a name. So while Emma hadn't seen the guy next door, she HAD seen his mail when she stopped by his mailbox while out on a walk with Scully--her red-headed poodle.

Yes, she had sneakily crept up on his porch to access his mail. No she wasn’t stealing or stalking--Emma just needed to get his full name. Luckily his mailbox had been full--he even had subscriptions to several sailing magazines, which Emma found intriguing. She'd always loved the water.

Killian Jones.

Distinctive first name. That was good--it might make her background check slightly easier. But that last name. Could it be more common? No matter--if there was dirt, she’d dig it up. Emma Swan always got her man. She set her search tools and web spiders to trawling the web for any sign of Killian Jones and then turned her attention to targets that would actually make her money, spending the rest of the week tracking the usual dirt bags and losers.

She’d almost forgotten about the new neighbor by the time the weekend rolled in and a rare Saturday off meant an overdue catch up session with one of her best friends, Elsa. With wine.

Emma spent the morning tidying up and playing with Scully, but that afternoon found her planted firmly on her living room couch with Elsa.

She had just risen to refill their wine glasses when Elsa said excitedly, “Ooh! Car in the driveway! Open door! Someone’s leaning in!”

“What? What are you talking about?” Emma asked.

Elsa gasped.  
“Oh my God this guy's ass is amazing! Get over here Emma!”

Emma rushed out of the kitchen to join Elsa at the window. She gaped.Tight--but not too tight--jeans encased a perfectly shaped ass. The neighbor’s position--bent over, with his gluteus maximus pointed directly at Emma and Elsa--made his jeans cling, highlighting his muscular ass cheeks.

“You were not exaggerating,” murmured Emma.

Suddenly there was movement at the car.

“Oh my God, he's turning around! Down! Down!” yelled Emma, as she and Elsa dropped to the floor in a move that was more appropriate for nine-year-olds than 29-year-olds.

Scurrying back to the couch in a scrunched over fashion, they collapsed and simultaneously started laughing. At the sound of their laughter, Scully darted out of the TV room and up to the couch, wondering what she was missing. Emma looked at her, still laughing a bit.“It’s OK Scully, we’re just checking out the new neighbor--and his hot ass.”

Scully gave Emma a suspicious look, as if she knew that she and Elsa were up to no good, and  
although she was allowed to hop up onto the dark red couch--and any other place one could sit or lie down in the house (although tables and counters were definitely off limits) --she evidently did not wish to join in the current shenanigans. With a slight sniff she returned to the couch in the TV room, in pursuit of her afternoon nap.

“I think it’s ass-ential that you get to know him” said Elsa. “That way you can ass-ure yourself that he's not bad news.”

Emma groaned at the bad puns. But Elsa was determined. Within ten minutes she had even roped two of their friends in.

“Can we ass-ist you?” Ruby texted.

Mary Margaret texted “There are many ass-orted reasons to meet the new neighbor.”

“You are all an enormous pain in MY ASS.” Emma texted in exasperation, and then gave Elsa a pointed look to make sure her friend knew that the topic was no longer up for discussion.

That bought her some momentary peace, but Emma knew that come Tuesday and their weekly dinner date, all three would gang up on her. Elsa, Ruby and Mary Margaret thought that it would be good for Emma to go on dates that didn’t involve catching guys who skipped out on their bail, so it was not uncommon for them to seize upon a guy they thought date-worthy and sing his praises. Emma knew her friends meant well but she’d had a lot of bad luck in the romance department and was taking an extended dating hiatus. A dating hiatus with an ever moving end date. So Killian Jones? Still just a new neighbor who needed to be “cleared.”

Once Elsa left, Emma did a quick check of her search results so far. Nothing on Killian Jones except for a very professional looking web page for some kind of sailing business.

Hook, Line and Sinker. Sailing lessons, tours and private charters.

That explains the magazines, she thought. Hmm. Captains Killian and Liam Jones  
Emma wondered if Captain Liam was Killian’s brother. And if so, did he have an equally spectacular ass? Nothing else popped up from the alert. He wasn't off the “hook,” yet, though. Sometimes it took a little time to unearth the shady stuff. Emma would have to keep an eye on this Killian Jones. Better safe than sorry, right? The fact that he an extremely fine backside had nothing to do with it.

********************************************************************************************

A few days later, Killian was just about to leave the house when he noticed that Mr. Smee wasn't sitting in his usual place by the window.

“What's this? You're not bored with your little friend already?” he asked.

Instead, Mr. Smee wandered aimlessly around the room, finally plopping himself on the floor with a huge sigh. Puzzled, Killian walked over to the window and looked across, expecting to spot their neighbor poodle, but instead of a bouncy redhead, there were numerous brightly patterned pots holding plants with very lovely flowers-- but no room for the dog.

“Are you missing your friend Mr. Smee? Is that what’s got you down?”

Mr. Smee stood up, padded over and looked up at Killian woefully.

“I hate to see you so sad, boy. Maybe if we explain, the plants can be moved back to their former position,” Killian said.  
“I guess it’s time to meet the neighbors.”

******************************************************************************************

When it came time for their weekly dinner, they all insisted it be at Emma’s. Ruby and Mary Margaret hadn't seen The Ass yet, Emma having balked at trying to take a photo through the window. Emma’s friends were what they would call “curious” and she would call “nosy.” There was no way they were missing this.

“Have you actually seen Hot Ass Neighbor’s face yet, Emma?” asked Ruby.

“No. I always seem to catch him rummaging in his car. Bent over. But I can tell you that he also has really nice back and leg muscles,” said Emma, flushing a little bit.

Mary Margaret gave a little laugh.  
“Now that is a view I wouldn't mind having…”

“Mary Margaret!” Emma exclaimed.

“What? I'm married, not dead.”

“What would David think?" Emma asked with a smirk. Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan have been her closest friends--like family, actually--since college.

“I don't know and you're not going to tell him,” Mary Margaret sassed back.

“I think even David would have to agree that is one fine behind,” said Ruby.

“You guys need to stop obsessing over this! You're freaking me out. What’ll happen when I meet him?” asked Emma.

“Well, you'll definitely recognize his ass…” Elsa snickered, causing Ruby and Mary Margaret to collapse in laughter.

Emma made a sound of exasperation.

“Right. And then when he introduces himself I won't remember his name because all I'll be thinking is Hot Ass Neighbor.”

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door.  
“I bet it's him,” Elsa said hopefully.

Emma frowned.

“Open the door." Elsa hissed, inclining her blonde head toward the source of the sound urgently.

"What is this grade school?” Emma demanded, fixing them all with a stern look. "Everyone quiet. I'm going to go answer it.”

Ignoring the obvious--and completely juvenile--sounds of shushing, Emma walked out of the dining area and up to the door and looked through the peephole. Whoever was out there had the most vivid blue eyes, but was standing too close for her to see much more.

She opened the door.

Wow. Before her stood a tall man in a blue button-down shirt and black jeans. His dark brown hair was artfully tousled above those eyes--the color of the ocean, Emma thought dazedly--and he had just a hint of scruff on his face. Instantly she knew: this must be the owner of the much discussed ass and the rest of him was just as mouth watering.

Focus, Emma! Focus, she thought to herself.

“Hello lass,” the man said. “I'm Killian. Killian Jones--your new neighbor.”

Oh God, sexy British accent. Of course.

“I'm sorry to bother you…”

Emma crossed her arms, a skeptical look on her face. God he was hot. Perfect cheekbones and full, red, suckable lips. She suppressed a shiver as she continued her perusal. Well built--slim but muscular. Strong arms. And that chest hair peeking out of his shirt! Just enough to grab onto while she straddled him...Whoa. Hey now. Where did THAT thought come from? And what was he saying? Something about plants in the window and dogs? And did her heater just come on? Was that why she was so hot?

Emma realized that Killian was looking at her, expecting her to say something.

“Yeah. I have guests, so I kinda need to…”

“Apologies! I didn't even ask you if this was a good time--you must think me a right git…”

Emma cut in. “Um, so I gotta..” gesturing over her shoulder.  
“Good night,” she said and closed the door.

“Emma!” three voices chorused. Three voices RIGHT BEHIND HER.

“What are you guys doing here?!” Emma demanded. “I thought I told you to stay at the table!”

“Sorry, Mom,” said Elsa. “We just had to see for ourselves. I mean, I was the first to spot him.”

“Damn, girl. You should climb that like a tree,” Ruby said. “He's not just a beautiful behind--he's the whole package. Bet he's got quite the package, too.”  
Emma rolled her eyes.

“You didn't even tell him your name,” said Mary Margaret.

“What? He doesn't need to know my name,” Emma said.

“Youuu knowwww hiiiis,” said Elsa in a sing-song voice.

“That is for security purposes.”

They all just looked at her.

“So, are you going to move the plants?” Mary Margaret asked.

“What?” asked Emma.

“Were you even listening to him?” Mary Margaret scolded.  
“I may have gotten a little bit distracted,” Emma mumbled.

“His dog is depressed because he can't see Scully in the window anymore,” Mary Margaret explained.

“Well maybe Scully doesn't want to be seen,” Emma said, rolling her eyes.

“OK, Emma, whatever you say,” said Mary Margaret.

Emma knew she hadn't heard the last of this.

“Can we please get back to dinner?” she asked.

*********************************************************************************

Killian Jones watched, stunned, as the front door closed. He may have stood there staring for a moment.

Pull yourself together, lad, he told himself.

Shaking his head he turned and made his way down the stairs and the front walk, mildly berating himself. Since when did he, Killian Jones, turn into stammering, lip-biting Notting Hill/Four Weddings and a Funeral (What? He'd had girlfriends--he knew these things.) Hugh Grant? He knew how to talk to a woman! Hell, he knew how to seduce a woman with just his charm and devilishly handsome looks. Not that he planned to seduce his neighbor--or anyone else, for that matter. But back in the day...The point was that Killian Jones did not blush and babble around women. Until now.

In his defense, his neighbor--God, he didn't even know her name--was gorgeous. Long blonde, slightly wavy hair, jade green eyes (he was NOT staring at her body, so he definitely did not notice her trim build, her lovely arse or that if he were to hold her, she would fit perfectly underneath his chin. Nope. Not noticing.) Bit prickly and reserved. Not that any of this mattered, because he'd made an idiot out of himself. Sighing, he unlocked his front door. Mr. Smee would get over it, right?

******************************************************************************* 

Wednesday was a long and busy day for Emma. She climbed in and out of her yellow bug, following a skip’s girlfriend around for hours, hoping that she would eventually led her to the dirtbag. Which she did, but not until she had led Emma on a merry chase. From Starbucks to the dry cleaner on the other side of town, to yoga class on the edge of the city, to lunch with a group of loud and truly obnoxious women, to several hours in the mall and finally, to a friend’s house, from which the skip emerged. Emma wasn’t sure whether all of this was intended to throw her off the trail, but whatever it was, it was exhausting.

Before she knew it, it was 7 PM, and she was too tired to cook. She grabbed some Thai takeout on the way home, looking forward to receiving Scully’s always enthusiastic greeting.

Emma arrived home and immediately peeled off the clothes she’d been wearing for almost 12 hours and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a camisole. She walked tiredly into the kitchen and prepared a bowl of ridiculously priced kibble for Scully’s dinner--setting it down in its place in a corner of the kitchen. Grabbing a beer and the take out containers, she headed into the TV room and settled in on the couch for a round of X-Files episodes on Netflix.

Emma’s little redhead usually liked to hop up onto the extremely comfortable, dark purple (Who said she wasn’t allowed quirky decorating choices?) sofa and sit by her. But when Scully trotted out after dinner, Emma noticed that she couldn’t seem to settle. At first she brushed it off--sometimes Scully was just restless. But then Scully kept jumping up and down on her back feet in front of the bay window, making those little doggie “unhhh” noises that were meant to catch Emma’s attention. She jumped up onto the bench of her former perch and gave a tiny bark.

“What, Scully? What do you need?”

Scully jumped down and ran over to the couch and then back to the window.

Emma was puzzled. And then she remembered what Mary Margaret had told her about Killian Jones’ request. The plants. His depressed dog. Eyes meeting across a yard. Was Scully missing those window sessions too?

She sighed.

“OK, girl. I think I’ve got the message,” Emma said. “I’ll put the plants back in the kitchen. The window is yours.” She scoffed--as if the whole house wasn’t Scully’s.

Scully looked at her hopefully, tail wagging.

“Yes, yes. I’ll do it now,” said Emma. “It’s not like it’s been a long day or anything.”

But Emma didn’t mind, really. Scully was a sweet girl, a great companion and definitely the best roommate she’d ever had.

She put Netflix on pause and started moving the plants back to the kitchen window sill.

********************************************************************************************

Killian was holed up in his home office meeting an article deadline for most of Wednesday. “Home office” might be a bit of an exaggeration--he’d merely placed a desk and some bookshelves in the other upstairs bedroom. For now, the room was fairly spartan, with stark white walls that he hadn't had time to paint or decorate. Still mopey, Mr. Smee walked in and out of the room, occasionally settling on the floor near Killian’s chair. They’d gone for a morning walk on which they’d passed the poodle’s house (It was on the way to the dog park, so their route had absolutely nothing to do with a certain green-eyed neighbor). Mr. Smee had stopped, pulling slightly, as if to enter the yard, but Killian just shook his head and led him onwards. Surely they’d run into the beautiful blonde and her red-headed dog sooner or later.

That evening, Killian led Mr. Smee in the other direction for their walk--they were both in need of a change of scenery. Later on that arse Liam and some of their mates came by for drinks and the England vs. France football match. Once the beer started flowing, the teasing and trash talking began.

“Well now, how’s that neighbor of yours doing, brother?” asked Liam.

“What are you on about, you arse? I barely know the woman,” Killian said a tad defensively.

He had told Liam about the dogs, the plants and the beautiful woman next door. Trust him to blab in front of Robin and Will! He was definitely in for it now.

“What’s this about Kilian and a neighbor?” Robin asked with an inquisitive smirk as he sat on the couch beside Killian, intent on getting the story. Will, sensing someone about to be embarrassed, looked away from the match and leaned in.

“Oi! Did I hear someone say that Killian’s met a woman?” he asked.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Killian said, flushing slightly. “Fine, I’ll tell you two my tale of woe.”

Killian explained about Mr. Smee and the redheaded poodle.

“A poodle!” snickered Robin.

“Shh! Shut it mate! I want to hear this,” Will said.

“So I went over to meet the neighbor,” said Killian. “Mind you, I had no idea whether it would be a man or a woman--this was for Mr. Smee.”

He could tell that his audience was skeptical about this point.

“Bugger off, you lot! It’s true,” he said impatiently. “Now where was I...”

“About to tell us how you’d like to snog your new neighbor, I’d imagine. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so shirty right now,” Will interjected.

“Anyway. A veritable goddess opened the door,” Killian said.

Will smirked at Robin who smirked at Liam. Such smirky friends and family he had, Killian thought distractedly.

“She had these gorgeous green eyes--like jade--and long golden hair. And her arse, oh lads, her arse…” Killian shook his head, reminding himself to be a gentleman.  
“But I don’t know what happened. I just...choked. Turned into this stammering, tongue-tied git. I’m not sure what I said even made sense,” he said, scowling at Will whose shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

“Well what did she say?” asked Robin.

Killian groaned.

“She just kind of looked at me, said something about company and then shut the door.”

Robin, Will and Liam were openly laughing now.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, you idiots,” Killian grumbled, giving them a dark look.

“I’m sorry, mate,” gasped Will, wiping tears of laughter from his face. “It’s just..Killian Jones, rendered speechless--I thought it weren't possible.”

“Aye,” said Liam. “My little brother’s not as suave as he’d like to think he is.”

“Younger brother,” Killian said, grumpily.

“You poor bastard,” Will said, patting him on the shoulder.

“Something’s happening over there,” said Robin, who had moved to the chair beside the window.

“Might we have a chance to see the woman who humbled Killian Jones?” Will asked eagerly. He walked over to the window.

“Move it, Locksley. Let another bloke have a look.”  
Liam crowded in too.

“Oi! What are you doing? She’ll see us!” Killian said.

“Calm down,” said Liam, reaching for the light switch. “We’ll just turn the lights off.”

Killian slumped back into the couch, hand on forehead.

  
“Wait a minute. How can you even see her with the plants?” he asked.

“Looks like she’s moving them,” said Robin.

“She’s moving them?!” Killian asked, feeling a little thrill at the thought.

“I can see her moving back and forth from the window,” said Liam.

“She really is stunning,” Robin said.

“I see what you mean about her arse, mate,” said Will.

“Scarlett…” Killian said in a warning tone, and then asked guiltily, “Oh sod it, what’s she wearing?”

“Yoga pants,” said Liam. “And some kind of strappy top.”

Killian was suddenly flooded with visions of his neighbor in tight fitting yoga pants.  
No. He would not be that guy.

“Oi! Enough. No perverts allowed,” Killian said. “I’ll not have you three stalking my neighbor.”

They turned away, muttering and looking sheepish.  
“It's definitely time for more beer. Got any more food, Killian?” Liam asked.

“Well, there is a packet of crisps I was hoping to hold onto, but fine, help yourself,” Killian said with a sigh.

“What's yours is mine, little brother,” Liam said as headed to the kitchen.

“Younger brother,” Killian said automatically, mentally questioning the wisdom of giving his brother or their friends his new address.

The next morning he let himself sleep slightly later than usual, lingering in the bed until almost 8 AM--pleased at the prospect of a post-deadline, taskless morning. He got out of bed and stretched, then padded downstairs in the pajama pants he wore to bed and let Mr. Smee out. After taking a leisurely shower, Killian threw on jeans and a t-shirt and headed for the coffee maker. He set down some food for Mr. Smee, poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down. He and Mr. Smee ate breakfast in companionable silence as sunlight streamed through the open windows. It was a warm--but not too warm--day under a cloudless azure blue sky. A pleasant breeze blew in as Killian cleared the table and put his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher  
.  
“Mr. Smee, I think it’s a good day for coffee on the front porch,” he said as he poured another cup. Coffee in hand, Killian headed toward the front door, grabbing a book from the side table before stepping out onto the front porch, Mr. Smee in tow, wagging his tail enthusiastically.

As Killian got ready to ensconce himself in one of his Adirondak chairs he couldn't resist a peek at the neighbor’s window. The plants were well and truly gone. His maddeningly beautiful and aloof neighbor had heard his plea and moved them! The poodle was not currently in the window, but he hoped the little redhead would reappear soon.

“Look, Mr. Smee! The window is plant free!”

The dog tilted his head to the side in confusion, unable to see what Killian was talking about.  
“I think you’re going to be very happy when you go back into the TV room.”

As he settled into the chair, legs splayed, he couldn’t help smirking a bit with glee at his success. Satisfied, he immersed himself in his Stephen King novel, and was several chapters in when he heard Mr. Smee’s tail thumping up and down on the floorboards. He looked up and immediately saw the reason for the excited tail-wagging. Obviously out for a walk, the neighbor and her poodle were currently directly in front of Killian’s house. He couldn’t help but admire the way she moved, fluid and graceful. The little redheaded dog trotted along at the end of the leash proudly--head held high. Quite a pair.

In an effort to regain a bit of his game, Killian resisted the urge to pop down the walk to greet them. Instead he casually called, “Morning neighbor!” from his chair. She stopped and turned toward the porch.

**************************************************************************************  
Emma woke to two poodle paws on her chest and one cold nose in her face.

“Scully….” she groaned. “What TIME is it?”

Scully occasionally decided it would be best if they got an early start on the day--like 6 AM early. Emma squinted at her alarm clock. It was 7:30.

“OK,” she said in surprise, yawning widely. “Come on girl, let’s get up.”

She shuffled out of the bedroom, down the stairs and through to the back door to let Scully out. Emma stood at the kitchen window, the tiled floor cool beneath her feet, watching the little poodle trot around the yard as she waited impatiently for her coffee to brew. She looked at the plants, all leafy green and gorgeously bright colors, now back in their former home and told herself that the kitchen really was best place for them--for Scully and for many other reasons (Emma couldn’t think of any other reasons, but she chose to ignore that).

She poured her first cup of coffee and set down a fresh bowl of the ridiculously priced kibble for Scully’s breakfast. Emma had no such fancy breakfast fare, so she grabbed some cereal after letting Scully back in.

After breakfast and a shower, Emma decided it was a perfect day to take Scully for an extended walk. The weather was perfect and she didn’t have anything pressing until this evening, when she had a “date” with one of her skips.

“Who wants to go for a walk?” she asked as she picked up Scully’s leash.  
Scully raced toward the door, wagging her tail and dancing in excitement (Emma had once read that historically poodles had often appeared in the circus and she was convinced that Scully was descended from a long line of performers). Leash fastened, keys in hand, Emma and Scully set off down the street. In the direction of Killian Jones’ house.  
What? It was one of their routes.

Scully set the pace, alternating brisk trotting with stops to sniff. It was after one of these stops that Emma heard it.

“Morning, neighbor.”

Oh shit, he was outside! He wasn't supposed to be sitting right out in front--he was supposed to be inside doing stuff. Shouldn't he have unpacking or something to do?

Emma turned toward the voice calmly.

“Uh, hi. Killian, right?”

“Aye--but I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name earlier…”

She flushed slightly, remembering Mary Margaret’s scolding.

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

Killian came off the porch and down to the sidewalk, his dog, a dark brown lab, at his side. Emma's heart beat a little bit faster. As he drew closer, she couldn’t help but get a little lost in those eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Emma Swan,” he said. “And who is this little redhead?”

Scully was jumping up and down on her back feet and doing little doggie pirouettes at the sight of Killian’s dog, who vigorously whipped his tail from side to side.

“This is Scully,” Emma said, as she pulled on the leash a little bit. “Get down, girl.”

“This is Mr. Smee,” said Killian as the dogs started to sniff each other.

“Mr. Smee, huh? And that makes you…”

“Why, Captain Hook, of course.”

Emma smirked.  
“Shouldn’t you have permed hair and a wax moustache?”

“Actually the original Hook was quite dashing,” Killian said.

“Ah, so you’re a dashing pirate.”

“Or something like that,” he said with amusement. “I am actually a ship’s captain. As to whether or not I have any piratical tendencies--you’ll just have to see for yourself, love.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Emma wryly.

Scully and Mr. Smee tussled and chased (a limited chase, since Scully was on her leash) each other around. Then Scully broke away and danced at Killian’s feet in an obvious play for attention. He laughed and lowered himself to her height.

“You’re quite the performer, aren’t you lass?”

Emma snorted slightly (cool, Emma, very cool, she thought with a tinge of embarrassment).

“You don’t know the half of it,” she said, as she bent down and scratched behind Mr. Smee’s ears.  
Mr. Smee did a full body wiggle of happiness at the attention. Scully flounced over and started nosing Mr. Smee. He nosed back.

“True love,” said Killian with a smile, as he looked at the dogs. “Thank you for moving the plants.”

“Hmm? I don’t know what you mean,” Emma said airily, as she straightened back up. “I just realized that the old location was better.”

Killian smirked.  
“If you say so.”

“Well, we should get going,” Emma said firmly. “It was nice to meet you Mr. Smee,” she added, reaching down to pat the dog’s head. She gave Killian a brisk nod.

“Captain…”

“Lovely to meet you Emma Swan--and Scully of course.”

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

Emma and Scully turned and headed down the sidewalk to continue their walk.  
A dashing pirate, Emma thought to herself, shaking her head. She had to admit though, he was kind of charming and maybe just a little bit amusing.

One thing was for sure: Killian Jones was unfairly sexy. Those battered jeans clinging to his hips and that snug black tee shirt that emphasized his nicely defined chest and arms. That just right amount of scruff. And cheekbones and...damn it. Emma felt tingly. She didn’t want to feel tingly. He was her neighbor, so a one night stand to scratch the itch was out. And there were reasons she was taking a dating hiatus--pretty damn good ones, she thought. From a boyfriend who left her with stolen jewelry and the prison sentence he should have served to a lying creep and a few assorted jerks along the way, Emma had more than her share of bad romance. She wasn’t sure she was ready--would ever be ready--to take another chance.

She sighed and pushed thoughts of Killian Jones to the side. Best not to let the day get away from her--before she knew it it would be time to get ready for her “date.” Emma mentally crossed her fingers that this one wouldn’t be a runner. Running in heels was hell.


	2. Chapter 2

Killian stood there for a moment as Emma and Scully walked off. Emma Swan. What was it about that woman that left him flushed and flustered?  At least he’d managed to have a coherent conversation with her this time and--he hoped--displayed a little bit of charm. Killian chuckled to himself over Emma’s response to his thank you for moving the plants. Dare he hope that this was a bit of flirtation? His beautiful neighbor was still maddeningly mysterious, but Killian was more than willing to investigate.

He spent the afternoon at Hook, Line and Sinker’s offices with Liam as they scheduled client sailing lessons, confirmed tour dates and hashed out the roster for sailing on both _River Jewel_ , the 74-foot schooner on which they gave their tours, and _Pirate’s Plunder_ , the small sailboat that they used for lessons, for the next month. When he returned home at 7 PM, he noticed that Emma’s car was gone. He idly wondered where she was--on a date, errands, work? He didn’t even know what she did for work--just that it apparently involved odd hours.  

Later than night, Killian and Mr. Smee returned from a walk and came upon Emma, dressed in a spectacular--and spectacularly short--red dress that was strapless, hugged her curves and rested quite a few inches above her knees, gingerly extricating herself from her car. She limped slightly and appeared to be bruised and scraped.

Alarmed, Killian approached her.

“Swan? You alright? What happened?”

“Just a dirtbag who didn’t know when to quit,” Emma said with disgust.

In reply to Killian's inquiring and slightly concerned look, she explained.

“I’m a bail bondsperson and I had a ‘date’ (she made air quote signs with her fingers) with one of my skips, and he ran when I pulled out my cuffs.”

“Well that's just bad form. I can assure you Swan, that _I_ would never run should you ever want to use your cuffs on me,” Killian said cheekily.

Emma snorted and rolled her eyes.

“ANYway...His car was booted, so he couldn’t really go anywhere, but I still had to chase him to lock him down. He threw a few obstacles in my way,” she explained. “So yeah, a few bumps and bruises--I’ve had worse.”

Killian could see numerous scrapes, some already blooming multicolored bruises and what looked like a very painful ankle--possibly sprained.

“You’re a tough lass,” he said with appreciation. “However, dare I suggest that I help you up your stairs? I think it’s going to be quite the challenge.”

“You don’t…”

“Swan, I know you could use the help, and this is what neighbors do,” Killian said. “Why don’t you give me your keys and I can put Mr. Smee inside so he doesn't cause us to capsize.”

She handed over her keys while eyeing him with a bit of suspicion.

“I don’t know about this--we’ve only just met.”

“Oh please, love. I’ve seen your reserved, cautious and oh so slightly suspicious personality and you’ve known my name for several days. That in addition to what I now know that you do for a living makes me think that you’ve surely already run a background check on me,” Killian said. “Being an upstanding bloke, I'm sure I passed with flying colors.”

Emma’s jumped slightly with what looked like surprise.

“What? I don't ...” she sputtered.

Killian ignored her denial and threw her a faintly superior look as he continued: “So come over here and lean on this stair rail while I take Mr. Smee inside.”

He jogged up the stairs, unlocked and opened the front door to find Scully, who greeted him with an enthusiastic welcome dance. He smiled and laughed delightedly.

“Hello little lass! I’m bringing your mum up in a minute. You and Mr. Smee go have fun for a bit, yeah?”

He unhooked Mr. Smee’s leash and the two dogs raced off to the TV room.

“Traitor!” called Emma with a laugh from her position at the bottom of the steps.

 “OK, Swan, here we go,” Killian said as he put her arm around his shoulders. His pulse jumped a bit when she put one arm around his waist.

 They limped up and into the house. Killian carefully navigated them toward the living room couch, where he eased Emma down into a sitting position.

“You should elevate that leg, love,” Killian said.

He spotted a footstool in front of a chair tucked in the corner and dragged it over. That settled, he surveyed her battered state. The damage looked worse in the brightly lit house, but was still probably only in need of a bit of first aid.

“Let’s take a look at your other injuries. I assume you have a first-aid kit?” he asked briskly.

“Jones, you don’t have to do this. I’m not some damsel in distress,” Emma said, leaning forward as if to rise and tend to her injuries herself.

Killian made calming motions with his hands.

“Swan, believe me, I would never mistake you as such. Like I said--you’re a tough lass. But just let someone help you once in awhile. Try something new, darling. It’s called trust,” Killian said gently. 

“OK, OK,” Emma grumbled. “The first aid kit is on the top shelf of the bathroom cabinet.”

“Back in a tic, love.”

Killian made it to the bathroom and back quickly. He knelt down beside Emma to examine her ankle. Her hair glowed softly in the light, the shadows under her eyes almost, but not quite, obscuring the green of her eyes. Despite her fierce exertions, the scent of her perfume lingered--bright and citrusy.

He couldn’t help but play the tease a bit.

“Quite the lovely leg you have there, Swan,” he said.

Emma scowled at him.

“I’m referring to your colorful bruises, of course,” he said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Are you going to make me regret letting you help, Jones?”

“Of course not love. That would be bad form,” he said. “I promise not to notice or comment on anything but your injuries--not even how you look in that bloody amazing red dress. First aid only.”

Killian gave her a saucy grin and then bent over her leg with an innocent air.

Despite his sincere resolution to concentrate solely on his task, Killian’s body was starting to hum. Focus, mate, he warned himself.

“I think I just turned it,” Emma said. “I have experience with sprains, believe me.”

“Looks like you’re right, but you should probably wrap it just for tonight,” Killian said. “And ice it--any cold packs?”

“Yeah, I’ve always got a few on hand in the freezer,” Emma said.

Killian went into the kitchen. As he opened the freezer he was briefly tempted to stick his head in to cool off. All flirting aside, he wasn’t helping Emma just to see her legs or get in her pants--he was genuinely concerned. But his body hadn’t got the Florence-Nightingale-duty-only memo. Killian felt warm all over, his blood starting to head south. He clutched an ice pack and visualized every non-sexy thing he could think of. The smell of Liam's feet. That time Scarlett mooned him. Falling off a sailboat and into cold water (Yes! cooling thoughts, cooling thoughts).

Having tamped down his lust, Killian headed back to the living room. He handed Emma the ice pack.

“You know what to do,” he said. “Now let me take a look at these abrasions.”

“Such a gentleman,” Emma said teasingly, as she took the pack and held it to her ankle.

“Oh, I’m always a gentleman, love,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he knelt before her again.

He gently applied disinfectant to the scrapes on her shins and knees and applied a few plasters. Killian was disconcerted to see another scrape--this one dangerously located mere centimeters below her hemline. Steadying his hands, he carefully tended to it.

Oh God, not again, he thought, as his temperature rose.

He desperately visualized cold water, the Queen naked, anything else but slipping his hands up underneath Emma’s skirt. Carefully, but quickly, he applied the last plaster and stood up.

Emma picked up the sports wrap and wound it around her ankle.

“Um, that was really nice of you, Killian. Thank you,” she said, somewhat stiffly. (still--she called him Killian, he thought excitedly)

She cleared her throat.

“You should at least have a beer as a thank you. You can get me one while you’re there.”

“Oh, I see, Swan,” Killian said with a fake pout. “Offering me beer is just a ploy to get me to bring you one.”   

“That’s not the _only_ reason--but it’s definitely a benefit,” Emma said, teasingly.

Killian’s heart sped up at how cute Swan looked when she was teasing him.

Killian’s heart sped up even more at the thought of spending a little time with her.

“I’m going to change into something more comfortable,” she said, getting up unsteadily and turning toward the stairs.

“Swan,” Killian said. “How are you going to get up those stairs?”

“My ankle is wrapped, I’ve taken some ibuprofen and the ankle is improving already. I can make it up there on my own,” Emma said.

Killian sighed internally. Bloody stubborn woman!

“Greatly improved in just 10 minutes?” he asked skeptically. “I think not.”

Emma gave him a rebellious look.

“Let me at least  help you up to the landing. However alluring I might find the possibility of seeing  your bedroom, I promise not to intrude,” Killian said, with a flirty raise of an eyebrow.

He could see her struggling to come up with another argument. And failing.

“Fine, fine,” Emma said. “You can carry my pillow and blanket downstairs since I guess I’m not _allowed_ to go upstairs to sleep, _Doctor_ Jones.”

Her slightly snarky look was absolutely adorable, Killian thought.

“I’m glad you’ve started to see reason, Swan.” he said, smirking. “Now hop to it.”

She glared at him.

Killian placed her arm around his waist and his arm on her shoulder.They slowly made their way up the stairs. He deposited her on the landing.

“Now where is the extra pillow and blanket, love?” he asked.

“In the linen closet by the stairs,” Emma said. “Am I allowed to go in my room now, Doctor?”

“Proceed,” Killian said, smiling. “But don’t try to come downstairs by yourself. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Grabbing the pillow and blanket, he headed toward the stairs.

“TV or living room couch?” he asked as he he made his way downward.

“TV room,” she yelled.

Killian put the pillow and blanket down on the couch and headed to the kitchen.

 

*************************************************************************************************

Meanwhile, Emma was having a bit of a freakout.

Oh God, he was in her house! Hot as Fuck neighbor (he was no longer just a Hot Ass) Killian Jones was in her house, Emma thought a bit frantically, as she pulled out some loose pants and a shirt. Dying to get out of the dress, she quickly lifted it over her head and set it aside for dry cleaning as her thoughts ran on a single track loop: hot neighbor in the house, hot neighbor in the house, hot-neighbor-that-I am-attracted-to in the house.    

She threw on the comfortable clothes and sat down on her bed in an attempt to regain her equilibrium. It was actually pretty sweet of him to help her out like this, but damn, the tingling sensation from earlier today had gone into overdrive, she thought. And the lower body sensations she felt as he worked his way up her leg? Emma didn’t even want to examine her response or its possible meaning.

His hands were so warm and gentle, she mused, unconsciously biting her lower lip. But she was definitely not imagining those hands on her body or thinking about how his scruff looked in the light as he knelt before her. Or how she could have traced it along the line of his jaw, her fingers lightly dancing across his skin. Nope. Also not envisioning scruff burns on her face...and other places.

Who was she kidding? She was definitely thinking that. She groaned.

You can do this. You can act like a normal, totally-not-attracted-to-him person, she thought to herself. Just stop picturing him naked. Stop picturing him at all. Focus on the pain, focus on anything else than Killian Jones.

“Swan?” the man himself called from the kitchen, breaking into her thoughts.

“Yeah?”

I’m going to take our beers into your TV room if that’s OK? I thought we could sit with the dogs.”

She smiled to herself with relief. Hang out with the dogs. Surely that would help her change her focus.

“OK!” she yelled back.

“And I hope you’re decent, because I’m coming up to help you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, hauling herself up off the bed and out to the landing.

Killian jogged up the stairs and smiled brightly at her.

“Off you go,” he said, arranging their arms like had before.

They headed down the stairs and into the TV room. Emma had to admit that she would have found it hard to navigate the stairs on her own. Not that she was going to tell _him_ that. Cocky bastard. Sweet cocky bastard.

He carefully led her over to the toward the arm chair, gently placing her in it. She lifted up her leg and put it on the footstool and looked over at Killian. Dammit! He was bent over a side table where he had placed the beers. There was _That Ass_ again. And those jeans weren't making her resolution to not think about him any easier.

He turned and held a bottle out. “Your beer, milady?”

“Milady?” Emma snorted. “What is that, gentleman pirate speak?”

“I am indeed always a gentleman, Swan.”

“And a pirate?”

“Are you asking about my pillaging and plundering, love?”

“No!” Emma said defensively.

“It’s OK, Swan,” Killian said, leering playfully.  “I can understand why you’d be interested in the activities of someone as devilishly handsome as I.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Emma retorted.

“I am wounded! After my careful ministrations…” he said with a sigh, shaking his head.

“Thank you for getting me in the house and taking care of my injuries Jones,” she said, mouth curved in a half smile.

“My pleasure, Swan. It’s the least I can do after your unfortunate encounter with such a scoundrel,” Killian said with a half bow and a hand flourish. Smiling, he sat down on Emma's couch.

Scully ran over to the chair and stood on her back feet expectantly.

“Oh, so _now_ you want to see me?” Emma said with a laugh. “Come on up girl.”

She leaned down and scooped Scully up and onto her lap.

Mr. Smee promptly jumped up onto the couch with Killian.

“Mr. Smee! Get down! Bad form,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Scully sits up there all the time,” Emma said.

“Thank you, Swan,” Killian said, side-eyeing his dog. “It’s still rude to assume, Mr. Smee.”

Mr. Smee sighed, gave Killian an aggrieved look and settled himself comfortably on the sofa, with his head resting on his paws.

“So, Swan. Is the bail bonds business always this brutal?” Killian asked, taking a swig from his beer.

“It can be,” she said. “But a lot of it is pretty boring: long stakeouts, following people around and online searches.”

“And catfishing?” Killian asked with a teasing smile.

“And catfishing,” Emma acknowledged. “It’s actually a pretty good way to flush some of these guys out--usually without a fight.”

She leaned back into the chair, sipping her beer. Scully was sprawled on her back over Emma’s legs, enjoying a good belly rub. It was soothing to the poodle--and Emma. Exhaustion washed over her.

Killian looked over at her.

“You look knackered, love, and no surprise--quite the evening. I shouldn’t have forced you to entertain me.”

“That’s OK,” she said with a yawn. “Oops. No really, I thought I should at least give you a beer. It was...nice of you to help out.”

“Anytime, Swan,” Killian said, throwing her a wink as he rose to his feet.

“Well Mr. Smee, we’d best depart for home--and bed--I've got an early morning,” he said.

Turning to Emma he explained: “I’m teaching my first sailing lessons of the season tomorrow.”

“Oh, right--your sailing company,”  she said.

Killian raised one of his eyebrows, and smirked.

“See--I knew you ran a background check! That’s why you didn’t even react earlier when I said I was a captain.”

Emma flushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, almost primly.

Killian laughed.

“I’ll let you off the hook for tonight, Swan. As you can see, I’ve put the pillow and blanket on the arm here. I also left you my number tacked up on the refrigerator--just in case you need anything,” he said casually.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Emma said, teasingly.

She followed him out to the door.

“Goodnight, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Jones--and Mr. Smee,” she said, bending down to stroke the dog’s head.

Scully whined in disappointment.

“Good night little lass. I’m sure we’ll see you out for walk soon--or in the window,” Killian said with a knowing look.

Emma rolled her eyes as she watched them go out the door. After shutting it and locking it, she limped into the kitchen for a glass of water and then eased herself down onto the arm chair again.

“Scully, did we really just spend an hour with our incredibly hot neighbor?” she asked. Scully just looked at her.

Emma had a hard time letting anyone help her, but she had to admit that Killian’s concern felt good. He might be a slightly cocky flirt, but deep down it seemed he was sweet and very thoughtful.

 _He’s the kind of guy who sticks around_ , a little voice whispered in her head.

Emma sighed and started getting ready for bed. It had been a long night, but her time with Killian had left her...distracted. She wasn’t sure how much sleep she was actually going to get.

***************************************************************

Killian paused for a moment on Emma’s front walk to savor the difference between tonight and Tuesday night. Not only had he made it in the front door--he’d done it with his arm around the elusive Lady Swan’s waist. His offer to help was not some sleazy scheme to feel up his gorgeous neighbor, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed being close to her. Emma Swan was stubborn, maddeningly aloof, outrageously sexy and gave as good as she got. It was exhilarating. She was beautiful and fiercely intelligent and... Killian shook his head and laughed. He was so fascinated and downright besotted that he was in danger of becoming a stammering git again. But after tonight, he honestly didn’t care. All he could think about was when he would see her again and what layers he might uncover when he did.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we Mr. Smee,” Killian said ruefully. “Infatuated with the girls next door.”

Mr. Smee wagged his tail.

“Let’s go home, lad.”

 

****************************************************************************************

The next day was a Friday and Emma limped through it, happy to reach the end of a somewhat taxing week. By Friday evening she was ready for a break and a visit with her brother August. Well, he wasn't really her brother--at least not by blood--but they had spent time in the same foster homes, where they gravitated toward each other, each recognizing a fellow survivor and potential ally. Over the years, they’d kept in touch.

These days he could often be found working the bar at The Rabbit Hole, Emma's favorite local bar. The crowd there was vibrant but not trendy--or too big. Located in an old row house, the inside of the bar was all exposed brick walls and polished wood furnishings augmented by the odd couch or comfortable chair here and there in the corners or off to the side. The decorating scheme was a bit of a mishmash: a mix of vintage Italian advertisement prints on the walls peppered with decorative items that could have come straight out of a cheesy magic show, such as top hats, playing cards and of course, a white rabbit motif. It was quirky and cosy and not the least bit pretentious, which made it just perfect in her eyes.

After an afternoon of surveillance, Emma walked--a bit gingerly--the eight blocks from her house to the bar.  It was one of August’s nights behind the bar. She caught his eye as she walked in the door and he paused his conversation with one of the patrons to get her usual--a glass of the house red wine. Emma could almost taste the wine as she drew near the bar.

She was  visualizing the bliss of resting her weary feet when she spotted it. _The Ass_ . Her body was flooded with heat as her pulse ticked up a notch. What was _he_ doing here?

 

***********************************************************

Killian had always liked The Rabbit Hole, but before moving had not come there frequently. Now that he lived in the neighborhood he was well on his way to making it his regular watering hole. Friday evening, he was perched comfortably at the bar with a quality pale ale when he heard her.

“Jones? What are you doing in my bar?” Emma asked suspiciously.

“Your bar, Swan? I had no idea I needed permission,” Killian said, mockingly.

He leaned in close to Emma.

“Do I need a permit?” he asked, purposely popping the “t.”

Killian watched with delight as Emma blushed. He leaned back and fixed her with a saucy look as he bit down on his lower lip.

“I was just surprised, that’s all,” she said defensively.

“It’s _my_ neighborhood now as well. Besides, I know the bartender,” Killian said.

Emma gave him a startled look.

“ _You_ know August? How?”

“We played football together.”

“You mean _soccer_ ,” August said as he reappeared at their end of the bar, Emma’s glass of wine in hand.

Killian snorted and rolled his eyes.

“No, you ponce, I mean football.”

August just smirked.

“I see you’ve met my little sister,” August said to Killian.

Sister? Little sister? He’d had a connection to Swan for three years and was just now meeting her?!  

“Swan? Am I  to understand that this git is your brother?” Killian asked.

“Foster brother, but yes. The ‘git’ and I were in a couple of group homes together.”

So Swan was an orphan too.

She shifted from side to side, an almost imperceptible wince passing over her face. He suddenly realized that there were no empty seats at the bar.

“Swan. Take my seat.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“I’m not going to throw you out of your seat, Jones.”

“Love, I know your ankle must still be vexing you, so I cannot sit while you stand. It’s not good form.”

He looked at Emma earnestly.

“But…” said Emma.

August cut in.

“Guys, guys. Why don’t you move to somewhere you can both sit? Like over there in the corner?”

he said, pointing to two little couches. “I’ll even give you table service myself.”

 

*********************************************************************

The corner couches were perpendicular to each other. Killian and Emma each sat on one, their degree of physical proximity balancing on the hazy border between friendship and intimacy.

Killian raised his glass.

“To fellow orphans.”

She started in surprise.

“You’re an orphan too?”

Killian gave her a slightly sad smile.

“Aye. My father left us when I was 10 and then my mother died from cancer when I was 12,” he said. “I was lucky enough to have an older brother, Liam, who was 18 at the time and so was able to take care of me. I gather you were not so lucky, love?”

Emma laughed ruefully.

“No. No, I wasn’t. My parents left me beside the side of the road right after I was born. I was placed in the system and then a couple took me home intending to adopt me, but when I was about three, they had their own child, so they didn’t want me anymore. After that I went from house to house until after I graduated from high school.”

Killian didn’t say anything--just took her hand and squeezed it. She could see sympathy in his eyes, but no pity.  

”And things got better, I hope?” he asked.

“Eventually. I took quite the detour on the way,” she said, a wry smile on her face. “Right after I graduated I star dating this guy--Neal. He was a bit older and he’d seen and done all these things I hadn’t. It made him seem exciting and somehow worldly to a girl who’d never seen anything but the foster system.

“We lived out of our car and stole to survive. I’m not proud of it, but at the time I didn’t see any other options. We were in love--or so I thought. And then he ran, leaving me holding watches he’d stolen. I went to jail for a year.”

She saw a flash of anger cross Killian’s face.

“In some ways it was good for me. I took some online pre-college courses while I was in there and managed to find a partial scholarship--for ‘troubled youth.’ At college I met two of my best friends--Mary Margaret and David. They’re like family--sometimes almost too much so. David, in particular, is very protective. He takes his role of older brother--although we’re the same age--pretty seriously,” Emma laughed. “And that’s the story of little orphan Emma.”

Emma exhaled--she’d be unconsciously holding her breath--and watched Killian carefully, curious to see how he would react. She rarely told anyone about her past. Not that she was ashamed of it. Just guarded and wary of letting people see too much. In fact she was surprised at how quickly she’d started to let Killian in.

He looked at her, something warm and tender in his eyes.

“Swan, you are extraordinary.”

Emma blushed with pleasure.

“You’re exaggerating,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“I assure you love, you have my complete admiration.”

Something that felt a lot like happiness bubbled up in her chest.

August came by with another round. After placing the drinks down on the table, he picked up the blown glass globe in the center of the table and lit the candle within.

“Just a little mood lighting,” he said, shooting Emma significant look. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Thanks, August. I think we’re good for now,” she said meaningfully, inclining her head away from the table.

“Aye, thanks mate. Much obliged.” Killian said with a smile.

“Alright guys, you know where to find me…” August said as he turned to walk away.

Emma just shook her head--half amused, half irritated. What did August think he was up to?

She picked up her wine, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Another interfering big brother?” Killian quipped.

“Right?” she said. “He may be older, but I’m still half surprised that I didn’t need to bail him out of a Turkish prison or something back when he was vagabonding all over Asia on his motorcycle.”

Killian laughed in appreciation.

“Indeed, love. He’s told me stories of his various adventures and some of them sounded quite perilous.”

“So speaking of stories, what’s yours, Killian?” asked Emma. “How did you end up in the States?”

“Liam all but dragged me across the Atlantic,” he laughed.

Emma looked at him quizzically.

“Right after I finished university, I started seeing a woman--Milah--who was separated from her husband. I was completely in love with her in that slightly unhinged manner that sometimes comes with first love and I thought she felt the same. But whatever she felt, it wasn’t enough to keep her from returning to her husband six months into our relationship. I was devastated and dealt with it by drinking too much, starting fights, sleeping with a different lass every night and just generally acting like a complete and utter tosser.”

Killian smiled wryly.

“Liam strongly suggested a change of scenery would do me good. He had been thinking about moving to the States with the plan of eventually opening up his own tour company and he convinced me to come along. It took us awhile to get established, but eventually it all came together.”

“And now here you are, a pirate captain,” Emma teased.

“A dashing and handsome pirate captain, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling.

 

****************************************************************

As Killian continued to tease and flirt with Emma, he began to feel a bit as if he were having an out of body experience. He marveled at the fact that he was sitting very close to Emma Swan.

He’d made her laugh--and blush. She was radiant in the candlelight and when she smiled at him, suddenly anything seemed possible.

They fell into an easy conversation that lasted for hours, as they talked about books they liked (Peter Pan was an obvious favorite of Killian’s and Emma had read the Harry Potter series over and over again); favorite music (Killian was particularly into Pearl Jam and Foo Fighters, while Emma was currently obsessively listening to Spoon and the Black Keys. They also discovered that they shared a love for 80s music and a long standing devotion to U2); and a love of travel.

As the clock crept toward midnight, Killian was reluctant to break the spell. He yawned unintentionally.

“Past your bedtime, old man?” Emma asked sassily.

Killian laughed.

“I assure you love, I’m quite capable of lasting long into the night,” he said with a smirk. “However, I’ve had some early mornings of late and am facing another one tomorrow.”

“Sailing lessons?” Emma asked.

“Aye.”

“It’s been a long day for me too, so why don’t I escort you home, Captain?”

“Shouldn’t  _I_ be escorting _you_ home, love?” Killian teased.

“Figures you’d be old fashioned about that.”

They settled up with August and headed home.

They didn’t talk much as they walked but it was a comfortable silence. They drew near the hous

“Scully knows the sound of my car, my voice and probably my footsteps. I’m sure she’s jumping up and down impatiently,” Emma said.

 “Speaking of that delightful little redhead, Mr. Smee wanted me to ask you if you and Scully might join us for a play date.”

“Mr. Smee asked for me to come as well, huh?”

“Well, that part might have been from me. I thought perhaps you might let me feed you? You can help me try out my new grill in the backyard,” Killian said, mentally crossing his fingers.

“That actually sounds really nice. But I’ll warn you--I don’t pillage and plunder on the first date,” Emma said.

“That’s because you haven’t been out with me yet,” Killian replied impishly.

Emma just rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be on my best behavior, Swan. Captain’s honor. Does Wednesday night work for you?”

“Yeah, that sounds good--7 o’clock?” Emma asked.

“It’s a date.” Killian said with a slightly shy smile.

They reached Emma’s porch. At the front door, Killian took Emma’s hand and kissed it with a playful bow.

“Until then, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Jones.”

*************************************************************************

Emma stepped inside her house and took a deep breath to steady herself. The thought of opening her heart again to someone was daunting, but she didn’t want to turn away from whatever it was that was developing between Killian and her. She could not--did not want to--deny the connection she felt to him. The way he looked at her--like she just might be something rare, to be treasured--was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It felt really good. She craved more.

After she let Scully out, they got ready for bed. Settled in under the covers with Scully snuggled up close, Emma suddenly felt really sleepy. She yawned.

“Well, I guess you and I have a play date on Wednesday night, girl.”

Scully was already chasing rabbits as Emma dozed off.

Her Saturday wasn’t very exciting--filled with errands and housework. Neither of these activities could prevent Emma from thinking about Killian. A lot. When she thought about their upcoming date, butterflies took took wing in her stomach.

Saturday night was quiet--just Emma and Scully on the couch eating pizza (Scully was allowed a few pizza crusts) and watching Netflix.

Sunday morning dawned beautiful and bright. As she and Scully went out the front door of the house for a walk, Emma noticed a card on her door mat. Puzzled she bent and picked up.

Opening the envelope, she pulled out a card.

 **_Happy Mother’s Day from your dog!_ **  

The card even had poodle on the front (a white one, because greeting card makers were poodle racists, Emma was convinced). Inside, it was signed, love, Scully.

Killian. It had to be.

Tears sprung, unbidden, to Emma’s eyes. She was not an overly sentimental person, but this was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for her. She hadn’t even realized it was Mother’s Day--she’d never had reason to keep track of this particular holiday. How did he even find a poodle card? When had he had time?

She had a sudden urge to run down to Killian’s house, drag him out and kiss the hell out of him. But she wouldn’t--it wasn’t her style. It also seemed a tad overeager.

No, she would wait until she saw him walking Mr. Smee. If she hadn’t seen him by Tuesday morning, maybe she could sneak over and leave a thank you note--waiting until Wednesday night didn’t feel right.

Emma placed the card carefully on the hall table. She and Scully started off on their walk. Maybe she’d even see Killian while they were out. It was an exhilarating and slightly scary thought. Words weren’t her strong suit and she was a little worried that she wouldn’t be able to express how much she appreciated his gesture. She guessed she’d start with “thank you” and wing it from there.

It was going to be an interesting week...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma's been "hooked." Stay tuned for the first date....
> 
> As always, comments of any length are always welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Killian's deploying that dashing rapscallion charm! How can Emma resist?
> 
> Stay tuned..
> 
> Let me know what you think! Reviews of any length are always much appreciated!


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